


impish

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Religious Conflict, Religious Guilt, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, i rly need to stop writing when tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 11:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20308600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: #3





	impish

**Author's Note:**

> ooo yikes this ones p bad  
!warning!  
self hatred  
self harm  
religion  
guilt  
depression  
and reference and brief talk of molestation

“And always, night and day, he was in the mountains and in the tombs, crying out and cutting himself with stones” Mark 5:5

“Let’s start with the memory verse. Please grab your pamphlets and stand. First we’ll read the reference, the verse, then the reference again.”

The while room chanted out the words. Some were so grand and holy, they had already memorized it. They didn’t need to look. But most did look. The girl included. But even though she saw all those around her that also had to read it. She felt as though she sinning, just having to look down at the words. 

“Alright now go ahead and shake hands with those right around you.”

The girl hated this part-  
She would have to wipe her hands down so that the sweat wouldn’t get on anybody else. So, after a while, she would just sit and ignore everyone. It’s like they knew, so they wouldn’t approach. Didn’t the pastor once say, ‘those that distance themselves aren’t true sisters and brothers’? She knew what she was. It hurt that everybody else knew too. The girl sighed and picked up her pen, and drew a crying face.

“Pick up your hymns and turn to page 279, He Lives.”

Finally a part she loved! Singing was the best part of church. She could sing, and praise the lord. But what if she mispronounced a word or sang too high-  
She scoffed to herself in her head. This wasn’t supposed to be about her! Singing was to rejoice...

“We’ll have the chorus sing a special now.”

The girl didn’t like this part either-  
She picked up her pen and drew an eye. It wasn’t that she was jealous of the people, no, it was just a reminder. When she would get home, her family would compliment the special singers. And then pressure her to get into the chorus as well. Since all the other younger kids were in it. The girl didn’t like looking around, and seeing only herself in the chairs. Not up there, on the stage. Her own flimsy excuse was that she ‘couldn’t sing all that great’. It was true, but not the actual reason. She knew the reason, and hated herself for it. 

The pastor waited for the chorus to leave, then went back onstage. He told them where to turn. The rest of the half hour would be full of preaching. The girl stared through the pastor. Sometimes, she could focus and listen to sermons. Most of the time she would feel tears gather, but suck it up. If she let them fall, everyone in the room would know how gross she is. Guilt was her doorman, smiling as she walked into the church building. Then it would sit behind her and taunt her. 

Anyway-

Sometimes she would just zone out. She would transition to autopilot. Laugh when the pastor told a joke, look sad when he told a story, and look down at her bible when he read out loud. She was just going through the motions. She just- Just couldn’t connect sometimes! The girl blamed the devil. Point the finger at anyone but yourself, right?

The pastor dismissed them. The girl fled the building. She was almost always one of the first to get out and toward the car. Her family was much slower to get out. She watched them converse with the pastor.

Were they talking about her? How gross she’s always been? How the sins are stacked all around her? How they needed to cleanse her, to change her more?

No. They weren’t. The pastor only invited them over to his house sometime. That was all. The girl felt guilty all over again. She stared out the window, watching cars fly by.

She was 5. She was already foul. She was acting, playing the devil. Just a demonstration, of course! She wanted to show her family how the devil would react to the Bible. So she had...

Thrown it.

Her grandfather stiffened in his chair. She felt tension in the air. She had done something wro-

“Young lady! Don’t you dare throw the Bible like that again! Do you hear me?!”

Of course, she nodded her head. She said she understood, and apologized. She fetched the Bible from the floor and put it back on the shelf. The girl felt her eyes dampen.

She was 6. She had lost all her ties. Even to God. They didn’t go to church anymore. Her mother really never was religious. No, her mother was angry. So she left home, and dragged her along. They moved states, and made with what they had. They managed a few weeks with a relative. The girl liked the big dog she had. It had a purple tongue! She liked it here. Even though their weren’t many kids her age, and she felt lonely.  
They got a place with her father’s parents. She was spoiled rotten. She witnessed snow for the first time. She went sledding. It was fun with her grandparents! The only not fun thing was she had to wake up at 4 to go to school, and ride on the bus. The stupid bus...  
It was a new school. She was a stranger. No friends, even what was supposed to be her greatest friend, God, had left her. Where was he? The girl was still lonely. She noticed a pattern. Her mother got into an argument with her own parents, so she left. Now it was happening again. This time with her father’s parents. They left again. Ended up with complete strangers. Or, at least they were to her! Her mother knew them. She went from the ritzy part of town to the worst part of town. Her mother’s friends were really something. She got there and the only they had was cereal, coffee, and beer. Oh, and a walnut tree. She found out she really liked walnuts! Oh! Oh, and a NES system. She spent most of her time playing that. Or playing darts with one of her mother’s friends. The girl stayed inside most of the time, and was still lonely.

After about a year, her mother sent her back to her grandparents. The girl was so happy to them again, her mother didn’t really let her talk with them anymore- But she wasn’t happy when she heard her mother was staying behind. The girl was dragged back to her real home. She wondered where God was now? Why would her do this to her? 

The girl would call her mother from home. She told her all her milestones. Like learning to swim! How to canonball! It was great, calling her mother. But she hasn’t seen her in what felt like forever. The girl cried herself to sleep most nights over forgetting her mother’s face. 

She was 8. Her mother is back. She finally got saved, and was a true Christian.

She was 11. She was sad. Would she always feel this? The girl learned that she was being pulled from public school. Her family was paranoid over public school, and the ever increasing terrible stories coming from them. She cried over her friends. They had just formed one giant group! Now this? All six of them, poof! But hope still existed. They formed a group chat. They talked almost everyday. But she didn’t get to see them much, and she was lonely once again. The girl found a box cutter in her grandfather’s toolbox. It was flimsy, and dull, but it would do. She dragged the blade over her thighs.

She was 12. She was sad. She would always feel this way! She would always be gross now, as well. Looking at the scars, they only screamed sinner and guilty at her. She silenced the screams with more cuts.

She was 13. She was sad. She hung around her mother. Her mother dragged her around with new friends. She watched as her mother bought drugs from a man. As she got high with another miserable family. As she exchanged pills with a couple. Whilst that couple was driving her to a doctor appointment. She watched as the couple snorted up pills. Her mother gave her ice cream, and they took a walk. The girl knew their relationship was dwindling. But they walked together on the road anyway. 

The girl was sitting on her bed. Her mother came in, and locked the door. Her mother looked anxious. She was about to ask what was wrong when her mother told her to get her boots on. 

They walked through the fields, into the forest. Her mother told her that her father was released from prison. Then she pulled out her phone. Showed her a picture. The girl thought his head looked like an egg, and he looked like a depressed wreck. But, that was understandable. He was forty-something after all! The girl didn’t like the way her father looked. He looked twisted and ugly. Her mother said she was gonna call him. And she did.

How do you talk to someone you don’t know? Or that you should know, but don’t know?! 

Their conversation was choppy, strained, and awkward. They didn’t know a clue about each other. The only thing the girl knew, was that it was probably very illegal. So, the girl just let her mother talk to her father. She didn’t understand. Why did her mother think that they would just...  
She said she had forgiven him. He was just a little screwed in the head! And the devil was probably always tempting him. But it didn’t just happen to her. Other children fell victim too. Should she forgive the snake that bit her hand? Was forgiveness not God’s thing? And now her mother said they were gonna run away to live with him?! But it was him that made her unclean. She was suddenly filled with resentment. No, she didn’t forgive her father. And she cursed her mother for expecting her to.

The girl watched everything build up, only to collapse. Her grandfather called CPS. She had two of her own social service workers, and a lawyer given to her by the state. She listened to her social service workers spew rules and advice into her face. But the girl felt numb, and all words were static. The only thing that she knew at that time, was numbness. She welcomed it, but also hated it. The social service workers left after one day, probably to aggravate another kid somewhere. Good riddance! But her lawyer stayed. And listened to what her grandparents thought was the truth. But they didn’t know as much as her, but she couldn’t care. The girl walked around the house like a zombie. She felt like one too.

She was still 13. But she felt older. Wait, do old people feel numb? Oh well, at least she had her razor. That always worked. The girl justified it as punishment. For not caring that she was again without her mother. That was why she was doing it. 

This suddenly got too real. Her family saw the cuts. Her grandmother yelled at her, then made one little, tiny comment. 

“It’s not that bad”.

What? ‘It’s not that bad?’ What kind of statement is that?! What wasn’t that bad? The cuts? The situation? Her mental state? The girl was wicked enough to take it as a challenge. She kept on going. More cuts, and deeper. 

Her grandparents announced that they were going to start taking her to a psychiatrist. A Christian psychiatrist. Oh well, of course! The girl’s heart was turning to stone. She promised to make it hell for her psychiatrist, make it as hard to do her job as possible! But, she got there. Her counselor asked her what she liked to do. The girl was tempted to say, ‘cut’ but she instead said, ‘draw’. She was caught off guard by how nice her counselor was. After getting her homework, and leaving the building, she changed her mind. No hell for her counselor.

It was their court day. It only took a few minutes. It was the same judge that had sent her father to prison. She wondered if he felt like God, or did he feel old? Did he know her? What did he feel when he saw her? She really wanted to know why her father wasn’t put in for life, for molesting her and other children. From the stories her mother told, she was too young for age 1 when he tainted her forever. She was doomed for failure, and awaiting the sea of fire. Why did the judge not keep her father in prison? He had ruined everything! Took away her purity and her mother. Or was it her mother? Or maybe dear old grandpa? They all stripped her bare! The judge?! Was this her punishment? God hated her from the beginning! Only more after her father was done with her... 

She was 14. And according to her counselor, getting better. But the counselor couldn’t see under her clothes, her shield. Where the fresh cuts still lay. Her friends grew more distant. At least her mother visited her for her birthday. At least the judge said she was allowed to visit her mother. The first day was her helping unload her mother’s 3 full storage units. She had abandoned them when she fled to her husband. Oh, you didn’t know? They remarried after three days. Congrats! The girl almost cried when she realized it was dark by the time they finished loading up the truck. One day wasted, she only had 2 days left. Due to this realization, she became snippy with her mother. They argued. Its like her mother didn’t realize her mistakes. Her mother even claimed God wanted this! What, God wanted her to run off with her pedophile, damned, estranged husband? God wanted her to leave her child to suffer? The girl refused to believe it. They had dinner at a restaurant, all together, as a family again. It was terrible. Her, the Filthy . Mother, the Blasphemous. Grandmother, the Challenger. Grandfather, the Taker. All together, what a mess.

She never really stopped cutting until she turned 15. She let go off the anger, and ignored the loneliness. But it’s hard to do anything but keep the guilt as a constant companion. When you look down in the shower or bathroom and see the scars scattered across your body. 

It didn’t help when the pastor preached about cutting. Said the cutting man has devils. Does the cutting woman have devils? Yes, she does. It comes in the form of self-loathing and crushing guilt. How does that little imp even stand with the weight of all those secrets?!


End file.
